


A Second Chance

by levele3



Series: Stranger [2]
Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Human AU, NSFW, One Night Stands, PWP, Public Blow Jobs, Public Display of Affection, Roughness, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, butterfly bog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 12:37:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7758142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levele3/pseuds/levele3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What was it called when you had two one night stands with the same person? Marianne didn’t know but she didn’t want it to stop. <br/>It's been a month since Marianne had her first ever one night stand and she just can't forget about the stranger who still haunts her dreams. What happens when the two are given a second chance? <br/>Sequel to Stranger</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Second Chance

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! I've been working on this one for a while, thought I'd have it up long before now. It feels like ages since I've posted anything so please, enjoy!!

It was a Friday and Marianne had the afternoon off work so she decided to go see a movie, _Macbeth_ with Michael Fassbender being top of her list. It had been out for a few weeks now and she figured a matinée showing wouldn’t be too packed; she might even treat herself to supper afterwards. Of course this had nothing to do with the fact her one night stand from a month ago had mentioned it as his favourite Shakespeare play. She blushed remembering the night spent at his apartment and the ensuing activities the next morning. Feeling particularly confident she had even left her cell number on his fridge with a note telling him to text her if he wanted to do it again sometime. Alas she’d never heard from the guy. Instead Marianne had gone out and invested in a vibrator.    

In the days following the encounter Marianne had taken pride in the bruises, scratches, and bite marks her body displayed. Proof, they were all proof she’d had sex, been _loved_. As the marks faded so had her hope she would see him again. Despite having much in common maybe he wasn’t looking for a ‘friends with benefits’ type relationship. Maybe he was happy with random one night stands. It was better that way. No emotional involvement. The vibrator had turned out to be her best purchase yet and if she called out the stranger’s name when she climaxed, well her walls weren’t talking.

There were more people in the theatre than Marianne had expected, about thirty. They were seated throughout the theatre in groups of four or five, mostly near the middle. She munched on her popcorn as she looked around the room for a good place to sit. Marianne looked up, _and up_ , the top most three rows were completely empty except for one lone figure. As Marianne made her way up the steps the figure became increasingly familiar looking. The creased brow and stern frown no, but the sharp nose and _that_ hair. Marianne went cold and stopped her ascent; it was _him_ , the stranger, _Bog_! Then the other people must be… _students_. How could she be so stupid, he taught _Shakespeare_ , of course he’d bring his class to see the movie. It wasn’t too late, he hadn’t seen her; she could always leave. 

Marianne’s body was betraying her though. She had spent a lot of time thinking about him and she didn’t want to admit it but him not messaging her had kind of stung. They had spent less than twenty-four hours with each other but it had been a wonderful time. She was sure they had connected on some level but maybe he hadn’t felt the same connection she had. Following their night of passion Marianne had fallen asleep in his embrace the way a pair of lovers might. When she woke the next morning it had taken her a minute to piece together where she was. They’d had sex twice more before she left, belly full of the delicious breakfast he’d made.  

A now familiar heat began to flood her as she looked up at him, how often had she lay awake thinking about what she’d do if she saw him again? All those raw fantasies she clung to in the dark hours. Marianne steeled her nerves; she would march right up there and sit beside him. Remind him of what he could be doing, what he’s missing out on.

Bog barely glanced at the woman as she said a polite, “excuse me” and brushed past him as he tried in vain to pull his long legs out of the way. _That was the worst_ he thought, _if she wanted to sit on the far side of him she should have just come up the other stairs_. He had become moody as of late, the temporary high of the one night stand he’d experienced a month ago having worn off. He still thought about it though, every night, like clockwork the memory would come to him as he lay there alone in his big empty bed. In fact there was hardly anywhere he could look in his apartment and _not_ think of her. The couch, the bed, the bathroom, the floor length mirror, this was another good reason for not bringing women back to his place.

He had avoided looking in the mirror before not wanting to see his own reflection but now it made him think of her. They’d had sex facing the mirror, he’d wanted her to see her pleasure, but it had an unexpected benefit for him too. He could not erase the image of her riding his cock so beautifully, and the way he could perfectly cup her firm breasts in the palm of his hand. Even now in this theatre he was sure he could smell her unique scent, a musky vanilla-cinnamon, feel her small hand graze against his thigh.

Bog snapped his eyes open, unsure of when he’d even closed them, bringing his hand down to cover the one resting on his leg.

“Marianne” he asked huskily, looking at the woman sat to his right.

“Hi” she smiled at him sheepishly.

Bog’s mouth went cotton dry. How many times had he started to message her only to put his phone down? _“Last night was really fun,” “I keep thinking about you,” “would you like to go to dinner sometime?”_

He’d even thought about sending a message once when he was thinking about her, telling her in detail what he was doing to himself, how he wished it was her, _sexting_ he thought it was called. They hadn’t discussed that though, she might find it repulsive, never message him again, or worse if she’d left a fake number what would the person who received it think? So he’d left it alone, put the little piece of paper in his bedside drawer with his lube and condoms, the only lingering proof she’d actually been there.

Now she was here, sitting beside him in a movie theatre waiting for _Macbeth_ to begin. Her hand trapped beneath his halted in its trek towards his slight bulge. The lights dimmed and he was thankful as the darkness would surely cover his rising blush. He got so turned on just thinking about her and now here she was, the woman of his actual _fucking_ dreams, sitting beside him in a darkened theatre… with his class of University students.

“What are you doing here?” he whispered to her, his tone slightly fearful.

“I came to watch the movie” she said, playing it straight, “but seeing you here was an unexpected surprise” she whispered back flirty.  

Bog was sure she must be able to hear the furious pounding of his heart as it tried to escape his chest. He’d forgotten how her eyes sparkled with flecks of gold, how her dark eyeshadow made her eyes big and bright. How often had he dreamed of her hand touching him in place of his own? Made his voice raw by shouting her name to the heavens? This was too much of a coincidence, the universe obviously conspiring against him. Or was this in his favour?  He was contemplating pulling her closer when she suddenly moved away, he let her slide her hand out from under his. He turned to follow her gaze to see someone else coming to sit in their row. 

Bog could tell from the shape of the woman that it was his TA Stephanie, but what would Marianne think? She obviously thought the worst. 

“And this is my TA” Bog said aloud suddenly as though they’d been having a regular conversation.

“Oh, pleased to meet you” Marianne said, extending her hand to the new woman.

Confused Steph shook the offered hand.

“I’m Marianne” Marianne introduced herself.

“Stephanie. Do you know Mr. King?” She asked a little defensively.   

“No we just met” Marianne gushed, “in fact you could say we’re complete _strangers_.” Marianne’s voice didn’t lose its false girlish tone but she purposefully brushed her hand along Bog’s thigh.

She was rewarded with the sound of him sucking in a breath of air though his teeth. This was going to be a long movie.

Talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place, Bog had Steph on his left and Marianne on his right. How could he of been so stupid to think she would, _would_ what? If Steph hadn’t of showed up when she did would he have let Marianne touch him? Get him in off in a movie theatre, full of his students while _Macbeth_ played in the back ground? He didn’t really think so, but it was quite the fantasy. He would definitely be playing out this scenario later.   

Whoever had sat in these seats before had left the arm rest up and Marianne kept “innocently” brushing her hand against his leg. The touch would send a jolt through him. It got to the point where he was hyper aware of her movements and the next time she tried to _accidently_ touch him he grabbed her hand first. Without taking his eyes off the screen Bog twinned their fingers together in a loose hold. After a moment Marianne tightened the hold just a little and leaned into his side. Bog felt a wave a happiness rise up inside him and a smile pulled at the corner of his lips. He could do this, they could pretend to be a normal couple, they would make it through the movie without any more slip-ups. Absently he rubbed his thumb against her hand in soft circles, it wasn’t until she gave a rather indecent hum against his ear Bog realized the implications of the motion.   

More and more of his attention was being drawn to Marianne, Bog forgot about his teaching assistant, forgot about his students, and forgot they were out in public. He reached over to snag some of her popcorn, but instead of eating it himself he brought his hand up to her lips. Without so much as a glance at him she parted her lips, accepting the offering. After a few times of doing this, Marianne’s tongue began to brush his fingers, licking the salt from them. Bog struggled not to moan even as the tightening of his trousers brought him back to reality. He shouldn’t be doing this, he should be focusing on the movie, trying to think of things to make the erection go away.

She began sucking on one of his fingers and it took a great effort not to turn his head to look at her. Every brush of lips, every flick of her tongue was calculated on Marianne’s part. It made him wonder what her mouth would feel like somewhere else. God, if this was how he reacted to her when she sucked on his finger he could only imagine what she’d do with those lips wrapped around his cock. Bog squirmed a little in his seat, _fuck_ , he needed to get out of here.

“Sir, is everything alright?” Steph asked in a low whisper.

Bog nearly jumped out of his seat at the sound of her voice, so close to his ear.

“Fine, I’m fine” he whispered back, but his voice was clearly strained.

After that he made himself take a few steadying breaths and put his focus back on the film. Thoughts of Marianne stayed with him though, running through the back of his mind. He wanted to get her someplace dark, _like the alley outside the club the first night they met_. He internally cursed himself, one night stands were meant to be safe, you were never supposed to see the person again, no danger of falling in love. The way he was inexplicably drawn to Marianne, could it be? He shook his head to erase that thought, he didn’t _love_ her, he hardly knew her, how ridiculous.

~~***~~

As the credits had begun to roll Bog had leaned over and whispered into Marianne’s ear, asking her out to supper. Marianne readily accepted. Marianne hung around the lobby of the theatre while Bog gave some final instructions to his students. She tried to make it not look as though she was waiting for him but his keen eyed TA kept eyeing her direction. She seemed leery of Marianne as though she’s not sure what to make of her continued presence.

They made an odd pair, Bog in his grey dress shirt and black trousers and Marianne in a pair of well-worn jeans and oversized knitted purple sweater. Dinner was an awkward affair, to say the least. The sexual tension between them had abated again and they were left to make polite conversation.

Marianne didn’t know what it was about this man that kept drawing her in but it did. It was his scent, his eyes, the way his voice caressed each of his carefully selected words. He spoke with intelligence but was never condescending. Marianne just nodded along but secretly absorbed everything he said and occasionally made comments, or asked a pertinent question.  Likewise he’d show her the same curtesy.  

They’d been walking around town after dinner, not heading any place in particular when Marianne suddenly pulled Bog into a dark alley. She pushed him roughly up against the brick wall and almost instantly his breathes had become short, sharp and ragged. 

“Mari-” his cry of surprise, _her name_ , was aborted by her lips capturing his.  

The kiss is rough, more teeth than lips, and over far too quick to be satisfying for either of them.

Bog groans at the loss of contact but Marianne’s hand is firm, keeping him pinned to the wall.

“I’ve thought about this” she confesses, her voice scratchy with lust.

“About you, _fucking_ you” she clarifies.

By the little bit of street light that reaches them Marianne sees his eyes dilate and hears the intake of his breath, a hiss through his crooked teeth. She doesn’t know why he seems surprised; _she_ was the one who left him her number after all.  

She runs her hands down his torso, admiring the tight fit of the silky shirt. 

“I thought about you too” he admits, but his voice comes out weak. He melts under her scrutinizing gaze.

Marianne draws near him once more, yanks on his tie pulling him toward her, and whispers in his ear, “I’m going to suck you off. Right here, right now, in this alley.”

 Bog is already furiously nodding his head in agreement. It was one of the few things they didn’t do when they were together the first time. Bog’s focus had been on pleasuring Marianne. His earlier thoughts from the movie theatre fill his head.

He gasps and shudders as her hands continue to work him into a frenzy, he’s still thinking clearly enough though to pull off his suit jacket and toss it to the ground. Providing her with something to kneel on is the least he can do.   

Marianne’s hands travel lower, down the inside of his thighs and back up to his belt. She slinks down on her knees as she begins to free him. The anticipation makes Bog’s breaths come even harder, her teasing makes his hips jerk. Marianne kisses the inside of his leg, trailing up to his erection straining against his boxers. Marianne mouths at it through the silky fabric, coaxing a moan from Bog. His wanton moaning is a deep rumble that blazes a trail straight to her aching core.  

Marianne looks up at Bog who has his head thrown back in rapture, eyes shut, while his chest rises and falls rapidly. She maneuvers his cock through the slit in his boxers and at last takes it in hand. It’s just as glorious as she remembers its warm weight in her hand brings her a new confidence. This is the first time she’s performing this act because she wants to and not because someone (Roland) is making her. 

“Look at me” Marianne orders in a non-demanding voice, and he does.

Bog watches as Marianne parts her plum coloured lips to admit his hard cock. 

She’s rubs her hands along his length, firm yet gentle, and peppers kisses to the head, licking at his leaking slit before finally, blissfully wrapping her lips around him. She flicks her tongue at the sensitive head, the rough muscle provides contrast to the silky flesh. It is the second most beautiful thing he has ever seen. Marianne’s hands feel everywhere, one on his hip while the other pumps him, and then she massages his balls through his boxers.

Broken syllables are all Bog can manage, he’s going to come soon, and he’s going to come hard. He fists at her short hair, his nails scrape her scalp, but he doesn’t force her down on him. She hollows her cheeks around him before making her mouth tight again, she sucks hard around his member. Bog cries out wordlessly as he tries to keep his erratic thrusts short.  He is sure his senses will overload the rough brick at his back, scratching him through his shirt, her mouth so wet, and her hands soft.

Marianne pulls off him with a lewd pop, her lust hooded eyes make contact with his.

“Come for me Bog, come for me” she whispers up to him lustfully. 

Without waiting for an answer her mouth is back on him, warm and wet, and her hands move at a frantic pace, she’s using both of them on him now. Bog growls low in his throat and it is a sound that is both predatory and primal, it urges Marianne on. Her flimsy lace thong didn’t stand a chance, it’s totally soaked through, and her clit is in need of serious friction, but she needs to fulfill this fantasy first. She’s hoping the walk back to his place will give him enough time to recuperate. 

Bog comes hard with a shout and Marianne greedily drinks him down. It is a sight to behold, her cheeks are flushed and her hair is a mess, even as she kneels on the ground before him he is the one who feels unworthy to be in her presence. She is the goddess and he will repay her tenfold. 

“My place?” he asks when his breathing has returned to normal, and Marianne has safely tucked him away again.

He sounds ragged and parched and it makes Marianne shiver. She likes that voice, it’s a voice that holds dark promises about giving as good as it gets.

~~***~~

What was it called when you had two one night stands with the same person? Marianne didn’t know but she didn’t want it to stop.  

Bog’s lips nibbled deliciously at her neck as his hands rubbed down between her legs pushing against the seam of her jeans in just the right way. It was effortless the way he made her moan and wither. Everything about him turned her on. She arched her back against the bookcase behind her in a bid to bring their bodies closer. He answered her silent call moving his mouth back to hers and dipping his tongue inside, the hand on her waist tightened its grip and he pressed his hips into hers allowing Marianne to feel the reward of her hard work.

She breaks the kiss to gasp for air as his hard length is pushed against her core. She has always wanted to be fucked roughly against a bookcase, another one of her hidden fantasies coming true. They divest one another of clothing in record time, barely going a moment without contact of some kind. His lips on her neck, his stubble pricking her, her hand griping at his shoulder, they couldn’t get enough of each other. 

“I’ll be right back” he whispers huskily against her ear and she enjoys the view as he goes jogging across his apartment.

Marianne slips a finger inside herself, something she’s been experimenting with since she was last with Bog. 

Bog comes back, the condom already in place and has to stop to watch Marianne pleasure herself. He can tell she’s new at it but it doesn’t make it any less arousing. 

“Is that what you do, when you think about me?” he asks, desire lacing his voice. 

Marianne opens her eyes at the sound of Bog’s wrecked voice, she never thought it would be such a turn on to have someone, _him,_ watch her while she did this. Between her own intimate touch and the look in his eyes she can’t quite name, Marianne think’s she’ll come before he even enters her. His unguarded gaze pierces part of her soul and makes her heart leap in a way that has nothing to do with how turned on she is. It feels good to feel wanted.

Marianne offers him a coy smile and he comes over to steal it with a kiss. Their frantic need to fuck slows in the tender moment they’ve just shared. Before long their kisses turn hard and hungry yet again. Bog’s fingers replace Marianne’s and he brings her back to the cusp. She shivers in pleasure every time his teeth tug at her nipple. Just when she thinks it’s _too much_ and _not enough_ Bog helps to hoist her legs around his waist and his hard throbbing member thrusts in to her dripping apex.  

In and out, it’s a rough and bouncy rhythm that has her moaning his name instantly.

“Oh, yes!” she cries disconnected words of encouragement, “harder, _faster_ , there, _right there._ ”

Bog can’t get over how wet she is, how easy it is to slide himself between her sweet folds. He was spurred on by her obvious pleasure, rocking her into the bookcase in a way he knew would leave marks. Just when Bog thought his legs would give out Marianne edged him backwards. With some maneuvering Bog ended up on his living room floor, with Marianne kneeling over him, riding him with great enthusiasm.

He couldn’t believe this pleasure goddess wanted to waste her time with him when she could be fucking better looking guys, or ones with more experience, and that’s when he had _that_ thought again. He could _love_ her. Really love her. 

“Oh, _Bog_ ” Marianne moan his name so beautifully, pulling him back to the present.

Her hands held down his with playful firmness above his head, forcing her to arch over him, her pert nipple a tantalizing hairsbreadth away from his chapped and swollen lips. He licked his lips to no avail. His hips bucked furiously against hers, each thrust rewarding him with a sweet moan from her lips. He just didn’t have sex like this with other woman. No other one night stand had left him half so satisfied as that first night with Marianne.

Marianne didn’t know what was wrong with her. She was supposed to keep her distance. One night stands were meant to be safe, she wasn’t supposed to fall in love. Even she couldn’t deny the intense connection her and Bog shared as they both climaxed together while maintaining eye contact. Staying was probably a bad idea but Marianne couldn’t bear to leave him. 

For a long while they simply lay on his living room floor, recovering from their blissed state. When at last they did go to bed Marianne was once again in one of Bog’s shirts. Instead of pressing her back against him, like she did last time, she nestled into him, front to front. Her nose brushed against his chest, his hairs tickling her. One of Bog’s long arms unconsciously held her closer, draped snug across her bum. _I could get used to this_ , Marianne thought as she drifted off to sleep. It should have been a frightening thought; it _should_ have made her want to jump up out of bed and head for the hills, but it didn’t. She didn’t. She stayed tucked safely into bed with a man who wasn’t a stranger at all. Fate had given them a second chance.


End file.
